


Chase This Light

by Tabithian



Series: These Things I've Found [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim's plotting. (He's always plotting, it's what a good supervillain <i>does</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase This Light

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [an exchange with soot-em-up](http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/30142986769/i-do-what-i-want-tabithian-soot-em-up-replied-to-your) on Tumblr. *hands*

Tim's plotting. (He's always plotting, it's what a good supervillain _does_.) 

He's plotting, and Mr Whiskers is getting restless, a sure sign that Tim's been plotting for longer than he realizes. 

Mr. Whiskers would not be first on Tim's list of suitable names for a cat that deigned to share the same living space of a supervillain, no. But the little old lady who lived one floor below him had to give Mr. Whiskers up when she moved, and even an supervillain like Tim found it difficult to say no to such a sweet old woman. 

Sure enough, there comes a tap-tap-tapping at the bay windows looking out over Gotham, and there Nightwing is, hanging upside down like there's nothing strange about it.

"Really?" Tim asks, knowing Nightwing can hear him with all the best toys money can buy, thanks to Bruce and his Mission.

Nightwing lifts a hand and waves, smiling goofily and if Tim were the kind of supervillain who didn't have morals or ethics no matter how skewed they might seem to the public at large - 

Well.

Accidents happen every day, even in the superhero world.

Tim points at Gotham, her streets riddled with crime, because that's where Nightwing should focus his attention right now. Not. Not Tim and his plotting and an ever restless Mr. Whiskers.

Nightwing shakes his head stubbornly and gestures towards Tim's balcony.

"No." This is ridiculous and needs to stop and - 

And Nightwing is completely ignoring him. (Of _course_ he is.)

Sighing, Tim goes to disarm the penthouse's security measures or Nightwing will going to get an up close and personal look at the upgrades Tim's added since that incident with the assassins a week ago. That done, he walks over to the balcony where Nightwing is making friends with the plants Ivy gave him as a peace offering. Affectionate and sweet, but absolutely deadly when provoked.

"Venus and Serena like you," Tim says, when he steps out onto the balcony. The flytraps snap at Nightwing's fingers playfully when he pets them, and yes, Tim knows, but how could he resist? They're two of his fiercest protectors.

Nightwing makes a pleased noise at that, like it's important the man-eating plants think well of him. “Oracle said you were working late again."

And maybe if Tim were another kind of supervillain he would be annoyed, at the very least, at all the ways Gotham's Bats and Birds have infiltrated his life like this. The Bats and their “visits”, Alfred and his care packages. Oracle and her electronic surveillance devices. 

And yes, Tim knows they're there. Slipped into the fresh flowers he has delivered every few days because Tam insists the penthouse needs them to _Brighten things up around here. Honestly, Tim, it's like a cave in here sometimes._ Tucked away in secret corners by the "cleaning staff" while Tim's off seeing to Drake Industries business. (Oh, yes, Tim knows they're there.) 

Sometimes he uses them to his advantage, but really, it's more of a game between them now to see how many new ways she can find to hide them and how long before Tim discovers them. (Oracle knows he knows.)

"Because people like me usually have set schedules." Most of them do, actually. Perhaps as a concession to their civilian identities should they have them, or merely old habits.

"Or maybe because you've been at this for most of the night," Nightwing counters, smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Tim opens his mouth to say something - but Mr. Whiskers meows, irritated, and. Tim looks down at him. Mr. Whiskers is a big tomcat who happened to have the luck to stumble upon a sweet old lady who took him in. He's a battle scarred alley cat with a chunk missing from his left ear, rough around the edges with a rusty meow and a purr like a diesel engine. 

Nothing like what a supervillain should have, not a pampered Persian lounging on a silk pillow, no, but for whatever reason, Mr. Whiskers has decided Tim is _his_ , and that's more than enough for Tim, petty conventions of the supervillain world be damned.

"Oh," Nightwing says, crouching to pet Mr. Whiskers as he brushes up against his legs. "Don't want the minions getting restless."

And, really. Tim used to inspire fear in others. He's certain of it. 

Not Tam, of course, never her. And definitely not Pru. (But, oh, what a sweet victory that had been, stealing her out from under Ra's' nose the way he had, even if she does report back to him regarding Tim's general state of being. (The relationship Tim has with Ra's is...an odd one, to be sure.) 

"I brought dinner," Nightwing says, holding up a small cooler that Tim somehow hadn't noticed until that moment. "Alfred made all your favorites."

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong on his path to world domination to deserve this. (An exaggeration. Tim only wanted Gotham, city of his birth. A pity that when he was finally in a position to lay claim to her she should have such capable - and infinitely interesting - guardians.)

"This is a mistake," Tim says. He always says it, hoping that Gotham's Bats and Birds will listen. (They never do.)

"You always say that," Nightwing points out, smiling widely as he heads for the kitchen, definitely too familiar with the penthouse's layout. "And yet you always let us in."

An appalling lapse in judgment, he's sure. One he'll be sure to correct...one day.


End file.
